"I am, Charcoal. She should be lifted out of her narrow little life, and it should be all owing to him. After a while, he raised his eyes; and, if their glance could have been witnessed at the moment, it could not have been easily forgotten. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. ” “What is there to be feared?” he asked her quietly. “Perhaps, as I’ve only just arrived,” she remarked, “I might be forgiven if I do not change my skirt. She’d have thrown this thing if you hadn’t stopped her. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently.
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